Peter Pan: Wendy's New Beginning
by LucKyGrAyeS
Summary: The classic tale continues as we go back to see wendy on the last night of her childhood, searching for a way out before her 13th birthday ball. all is changing in her world now, but can she stop it? will peter pan ever return again? chpt 3 now up!
1. Prologue

Prologue

In my story, Peter has a new set of lost boys: norrison, lester, skippy, bear, and the twins. so if you see their names mentioned later on in the story, thats who they are :)

The calming winds of Neverland drip along the sky, entwining around the startled stars who were on that night looming in piles over the island, alert and on guard.

They were waiting and watching for Peter to return from his late night frolicking.

When he flew out on nights where the stars hanging in the Neverland sky couldn't reach him, they would gather amongst themselves to mumble, worrying that one evening, he might not return home.

When one star would mention of what peril the island would be in, the others surrounding him would shiver all at once, thus creating an astonishing effect if you were to stand on the shore and scan the empty space.

You'd search it thoroughly, wishing for some kind of miracle, and then, right _there_, if you watched the exact spot where the stars had gathered, you could spot it- an effulgence of bright lights, tinkling like bells and rattling their tips one after the other in a chain of lovely light.

A truly mezmerising sight.

"Why does Peter adore the London so?" a young star piped from beside her mother one breezy eve.

"Dear child! dont you know? he flies to the London to see that Wendy of his! Oh I'm sure its awefully tiring without a girl for company on the Island," she explained dearly.

The others all nodded their tips in agreement.

A well known fact that was between every friendly star.

Except for the littlest ones.

They were still quite young, and had much to learn about the ways of the world.

"Is he in love with the Wendy?" the little star asked another floating by her side.

The star who replied did not have any children of her own, so she anwsered as gently as a feather.

She possesed that sort of innocence, the kind when you didnt know how hard it actually was to raise a child in the rightest way.

"Yes, young one. With all the love in his heart he does."

"But, however can you tell?"

"When all of the stars are asleep, and i bid my farewells to Peter as he makes for the barrier to the London, i see a quick flash of his face when he passes. His grin is wide, as if he had just killed a pirate, and his eyes glow so brightly that they alone could light up this entire sky."

Childless star sighed dreamily at her recollections. She held the sincere admiration of all the stars with the stories she would tell. She would shasre them on nights when they all confirmed that every inch of the Island was safe and all who resided upon it were fast asleep in their own seperate pieces of land.

"I can see that he is overly fond of that little girl. Perhaps enough to leave us and stay with her untill he grows old."

This could be done ofcourse, by Peter's own wishes, but all the Island in it's entirety would cease to exist.

The lovely fairies would not dance again, Tiger Lily and her tribe would never feel the glory of hunting flesh, and lastly but most depressively, the stars would fade away into nothing or could choose to move themselves into the real world.

The London.

But what of Peter?

He would grow to be an old man, with a mediocre wife, strangely boring children who could not fly like he once had, and a tint old house, which was nothing compared to the fine home under the ground.

"Sometimes i wonder," an elderly star reckoned, "If Peter will indeed stay, like the wise star says. Tis a foul place, that smoky aired London!"

"Tis not foul!" a littlun reported somewhere in the cluster.

"I have been there!"

His mother was in a complete state of shock.

"How on earth did you manage to get _there_?" she cried.

" Peter was sweet enough a boy to let me ride upon his back once as he flew to listen to stories!"

That littlun must have been the luckiest star in the bunch, for Peter had never taken with him a star to London. Ever.

It was not quite in a stubborn brute's nature to be so kind as that.

And it is ever so safe to call Peter this name, for most of the time, he was stubborn.

But let us just leave it at that and let the littlun bask greedily in her luck.

As this was all taking place in the sky, on the far, far side of the Island near the Mermaid Lagoon, a tradgedy was being borne.

Everyone knows quite well that the fiend Captain Hook now lay useless and with no hope at the bottom of a giant croc's belly, but he meant to change all that with time.

Hook was planning his escape.

And now it was his time, so he took careful measures.

It was a sickening plan he knew, but it would work well enough to escape out of the croc's mouth and out into open sea.

As Hook worked out his plan, he wondered a bit if his servant Smee had survived and was roaming around the island at the moment.

Perhaps he was, perhaps he wasnt.

It was only for Smee to tell you what was really right.

Hook doubted that any of his other sea rats had escaped the bitter battle two days ago, so he never minded it and continued to work his crafty hands.

What a sly dog he was!

He dripped leftover poison he had used to kill Peter with upon the blade of his silver knife and let it spread evenly so that each piercing would take its toll.

"Let's see how well you take this up for size!" he said, chuckling stiffly as he finished the deed.

The death instrument was ready.

With great presicion, the hopeless man got down on all fours and crawled up the crocodile's front so as to not disturb it as it swam.

He had the animal now, right in the palm of his hand!

The other hand, was occupied with a hook.

In truth, he hadnt felt this powerful since the days before Pan's wrath, the days before a mysterious, cocky child had broken through the young barrier with electrifying eyes that frightened and ambitions to rule the entire Island at first arrival.

He took his new power to his advantage.

Hook crawled all the way up near the croc's jaw, kneeling right above it's upper pallot so he could strike well.

He tried with all the heart he possesed to be a man.

Something he knew that Peter Pan would never be.

But at a time like this, he could only help but to shiver in his own skin.

His work would be grueling.

"Ok, on the count of three, you'll stab him bloody, untill he cant stand the pain."

He looked up, rather worried, poisoned knife clenched in his free hand.

It would be impossible to grip a knife with his measly old hook.

Hook began counting.

3... his hook began trembling tremulously 2... his pupils turned a bloody red, as legand described...1... was when that knife damned the poor croc, penetrating it's pallot and making it wail in terrible pain.

Hook had no mercy for the animal, so he pushed it deeper into the bleeding crevice, hoping that the beast would open it's mouth from the agony.

It did.

As soon as the mouth began to stretch, Hook made for the opening and went crashing right into the water's blue.

The knife was still stuck inside of the croc's pallot, and you could just imagine how much it wanted to rip that thing straight out, but there was nothing the poor creature could do.

It floated there helplessly, blood escaping from it's innards as it died, while the devil popped his head up from beneath the water's surface.

He looked like a helpless pup, the way he paddled for the island's shore, but the beauty of freedom suddenly hit him as he lay drying out in the sand above the moon.

He was a free man again.

The summer like air was sticky and sweet, smelling of freshly picked strawberries and adventure, which was sweeter than sweet to Hook.

It was _heavenly._

Hook knew that he was destined to diminish Pan, so he forgot about the Island's beauty and stood up, licking his dried lips like an animal desiring flesh.

He knew what he had to do.

Peter had just flown back from listening to Wendy telling the story Snow White, so he was in a jolly good mood as he descended to the stars.

"Hallo, star!" he yelled as he zipped past the youngun who had ridden on his back.

Peter gurgled like the child he was and swirved in and out of the clouds for some fun and excersise.

"Whahoooooooooo!" he screamed rapturously, forgetting that some of the stars near him were trying to sleep.

The London was an adventure, but he knew that home was much too much fun to just sit around and stand still.

At once the island bloomed into life as he cooed and floated here, there, and everywhere amongst the clouds.

He was smiling so much that he nearly forgot where he just had been.

Peter always forgot what he had been doing the day or even minute before.

There was so much else going on that it was hard to keep it all in mind.

As peter descended downward in a spiraling motion, he slowed down, realizing that something was not right.

He was such a funny sight, halting to a stop in mid air in a spiraled twist, upside down, turning his head left and right with a suspicious look upon his face.

He knew that something was wrong, but he didnt know exactly what.

As he scratched his chin and pretending that he was a man, he forgot that he was still floating so he fell out of the air and landed with a "plop!" face first into the sand.

"Oh codswallop!" Peter whined, rubbing his head now from his crash landing.

He had heard that word once while he was squatting on a little girl's window as her mother was telling her a story.

Peter wanted to mess with the mother, so he stuck one of his feet out and tapped the closed window harshly to see what she would do.

The mother heard this noise and said "Oh codswallop! must be the birds again!"

Hearing this Peter said "Huh?... what is that supposed to mean? oh how _odd _mothers are!"

After awhile Peter thought this word rather funny, so he adopted it as his own and danced around in a jigg like a savage yelling "Codswallop! Codswallop! Codswallop!"

Ofcourse, Peter forgot about where he had picked up this funny word from, so he assumed that he had made it up.

"Oh, how clever i am!" he told Skippy one evening as they hunted.

Peter's head was feeling better now.

He immediately sprung back to life and jumped up from the sand with his hands propped on his hips.

He looked out into the glittering sea wondorously.

"Oh, what a wonder!" he cooed at the water, and turned to scamper off into the jungle.

The night was still young, so Hook made good time as he wandered off into the jungle to find the two fairies that would assist him with his idea.

He tried dearly to remember where the two fairies lived, but as he walked past a familiar hollowed hole in a tree, his gait slowed.

This hole, was where pixie and rue once lived.

Hook was hoping that they weren't dead, because he would be out of ideas.

He knocked gently on the side of the tree, and at once, two blue haired creatures popped up together at the hole and were now grinning at Hook.

"We thought you were dead lad!" Pixi, the female fairy squeaked up at him.

"Indeed!" said Rue, who was skating around on thin air around his fairy companion.

Hook was more than pleased.

"Listen you two, i have a small favor to ask you," Hook lied.

Asking for a remedy strong enough to kill Pan was more then a small favor.

Pixi looked pleased and inquired as to the occasion.

Hook's eyes squinted to slivers, his pupils flashing a deadly red.

"Peter Pan," he anwsered.

"You must help me kill him."

"Will do my friend, will do!"

Rue had stopped circling around Pixie and wanted in on the plan.

The three friends spent nearly two hours brewing up the perfect spell to inflict damage upon Peter.

Funny they were carrying this out in the forest, for Peter was out at night too, searching for Wendy's pet wolf to bring to her on his next visit.

"She will be so pleased with me!" he assured himself excitedly as he searched through the huge leaves for the animal.

Hook began to grow impatient with the two miniature fairies as they worked around their cauldron, dropping things in every five minutes to finalize the spell.

"But will this _kill _him?" Hook asked, keeping a close eye on the fairies as they buzzed about.

Pixie knew that Hook would ask this, and she knew that he would come to find the spell incomplete.

"It will not kill him at once, but it will bring him to death sooner or later," she piped.

Hook's eyes fixed on the crackling fire now, watching the flames blow up under the cauldron.

He was deep in thought.

"Then what shall it do to him?"

Rue anwsered this time.

"It is better than instant death, you see."

Hook didn't believe in that line, but he listened to Rue anyways.

"You must take the potion when it is done brewing, and replace it with Peter's drink."

Hook listened attentively now.

"Once Peter drinks this potion, a spell will fall over him almost at once. He will grow vicious. He will loose all of his happy thoughts, but he will still be able to fly. He will not be the joyous youth that he once was."

"Delicious," Hook thought to himself, grinning.

"Peter will also have the desire to kill any who gets in his way. He will be unmercifal, so will have to keep a reasonable distance if you decide to go near him. Once the entire island sees that he has changed, they will rebel against him, and will kill him all by themselves."

What a beautiful plan!

But there was a way to break the spell.

"The only way the spell will be broken if Peter should fall in love," Pixie said from her place beside the cauldron.

Only one name came to mind when Hook thought if Peter falling in love.

Wendy.

Now we shall move along and see how Hook carries out with the dreadful poison given to him by Pixi and Rue.

It wouldnt take him long, because he still remembered where the home under the ground was hidden, so he moved along, pushing giant patches of leaves out of his way untill he finally came across the openings.

The home looked lovely under moonlight, with golden lights from inside peeking out of all 7 entrance holes.

Hook grunted and pushed on.

He wondered if those little rats, what did Peter always call them? oh yes! lost boys! He wondered if the lost boys were inside the home at the time, so he inched closer to the holes to see if he could hear anything.

"Where in codswallop is Peter?" Norrison cried from inside the home.

Obviously, Peter had taught them all his favorite word too.

The twins were sitting together on the rug lain across the dirt floor.

"Hey twin, where do you think Peter has gone?" Twin one asked Twin two.

"I dont know where Peter has gone! hey Lester, where do you think Peter has gone off?"

Lester, who was peeking his head out from one of the holes shook his head.

"No twin! Bear, do _you_ know where Peter has gone?"

"Why no Lester! hey Norrison, do you-"

"Oh would you stop putting words into eachothers mouths and sit still? Peter told us before he left with Skippy that he was going out to hunt! You all are so dreadfuly ignorant!" he scolded.

Lester looked the boys over with one eye and shook his head with dissatisfaction.

He was the most collected of all the boys, and looked like an intellectual with the tiny glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose.

He wouldn't stand for any nonsense while the captain was away.

The nonsense was Peter's job. Not theirs.

Before anyone could protest, however, two pairs of running feet flew past the home under the ground, accompanied by howls and terrifying screams.

One of the voices seemed to be egging the other along, yelling "I'll get you you proud and insolent slug! you cant escape me you little rat! get back HERE!"

The boys suddenly realized who was passing them outside.

Hook was tantilizing Peter, keeping hot on his trail as he dashed through the darkened jungle and away to safety.

Hook went fast enough, and just as Peter was about to take off into the air, Hook dropped to the floor, potion carefully tucked away in his sash, seizing Peter by the ankle.

"Arghhhh!" Peter screamed helplessly and tried to wriggle out of the pirate's grip, but he was stuck on the jungle floor by Hook's hand.

Justice would finally be seen in the eyes of the captain.

Hook laughed at the pleasure of having Pan under his grip, laughing so heavily that the entire jungle around them shook.

He reached for Peter's hair and tugged him upright by his curls so that he was looking up into the stars, his two hands now behind his back.

They were all watching from above, petrified, yelling "Get up Peter, Get up!", but it was all over now.

Peter forgot about struggling in his foe's grip and relaxed.

He would not let himself die afraid, but proud.

He gazed up into the stars for what he thought would be the last time, biting his lower lip, and smiled at them with teary stung eyes.

As he was doing so, he felt pressure on his head.

He screamed in pain.

Hook pulled his curls up closer to his face and lifted his head up higher to the sky.

"Do not fret, little one," Hook taunted Peter as he went to slip the potion out of his sash.

Peter had never cried in his entire life, except for when he had bad dreams, but now he could feel wet tears parading down his cheeks from the thought of never seeing the world again.

Hook popped the cork from the potion, grinning as widely as he could, and let the vile liquid drain down Peter's throat.

Tears were spilling from his eyes and making rivers down his cheeks and he drank to his doom, his hands still held tightly behind his back.

You cannot expect Peter to be brave while this happens, for he is only just a boy.

If he were older, he would take it like a man, but there was nothing manly running through his veins.

Peter was just a child. So he has the right in my eyes, to cry.

The potion had been drunk by Peter, but he did not die.

He was still alive, as promised by Pixie and Rue.

Hook felt the sudden strength gathering in Peter's arms, so he let him go, got up quickly, and took off running into the night.

Peter Pan has arisen.


	2. The Night Before The Ball

Chapter One

all children must grow up.

and the way that our wendy knew was this:

nana, an ever so loyal second mother to the darling children stuck to wendy's side patiently all that day, and strangely, without a change of expression or notion of sorrow throughout the evening.

she occasionally gazed into her eyes with a few words here and there to say, but nothing came out of her mouth ofcourse.

but it didnt even bother wendy so. nana was the finest nurse.. the best she knew on four paws that cared greatly for each of her charges.

it was only seldom that nana acted in such a way.

but wendy allready had a picture imprinted in her mind of why this was the case.. tonight, would be her last night as a child.

12 years would be left behind her tommorow evening, the evening on which her gigantic birthday ball would take place.

the beginning of the end, you could also see it as.

Mrs darling could have easily spotted the tension as she swept into the room with a kiss still hiding in the corner of her sweet mocking mouth, arriving to straighten out her children's thoughts and to kiss them all good night.

"oh mummy! must i grow up tommorow?"

wendy cried sorrowfully from her bed, nana allready settled alongside the foot of it for a light nap.

"No my pet! you have yet many years ahead of you to blossom!"

To blossom?

To blossom in such a way that a young flower of the neverland would?

or perhaps not, for all things in the neverland remained peacefully at youth, never facing the dreadful word that began with the letter "G".

Ah, yes, how could wendy forget about letters!

how she wished to go back to learning the alphabet in school!

wendy sorted through all of her thoughts that very moment, smoothing each one as if they were crumpled photographs. Each thought categorized into two seperate piles; one for lovely child hood memories, and the other, for every adventure she pursued with peter pan and the lost boys.

Oh, how her heart pierced at the very thought of all of their names!

wendy frowned painfully as she sorted through countless escapades; mermaids, hook, pirates, and daily visits to princess tiger lily and her tribe that wendy had befriended on her third day in the neverland.

she wished to store this beautiful box deep inside her mind, so that when the day on which she would turn 13 had arrived, she could draw them out of her special drawer especially for that box, and admire them all late at night before they would slip away from her memories forever.

Neverland couldn't always stay with you forever, you know.

Come the day for all the meddlesome things; those nasty cheque books, waking up earlier then you had been to send yourself out to work, knowing every evening that you one step away from becoming farther away from peter and his wonderful fantasy world...

Oh, it was the worst feeling in the world to know that you were a grown up and you could never fly back to neverland again.

wendy sometimes wondered how her mother must have felt when her 13th birthday had crept behind her back, coming to tell her that she wasn't allowed to play the pirate game or cowboy in her nursery on late evenings after baths were taken and all was subtle and serene.

It was one thing to allready be a grownup, but another to feel it happening to you.

Each morning, as wendy would dress herself for school in the bathing room, excluded now from her two brothers laughing at silly tales and changing in the nursery together at the same time wendy was changing, she noticed a new prominent bloom.

She began to notice her figure broaden at the waist, a chest beginning to grow slowly with time, the baby phat on her face that she had grown so fondly of dissapear, revealing a more dazzling, feminine, symbolic beauty of a young woman at first glance. Mother was right. Her evolution had indeed begun, but it would take a great toll her on heart tommorow evening when she would be forced to dance with nuisances from Fulson's school for young boys just across the street from the bank at which Mr. darling laboured each day. She was not ready for love. she was only ready to escape into a world she had known only a month or so ago, when she danced with peter in illuminating shadows, fighting captain hook, and sewing batches upon batches of new stockings for the lost boys, for they proved that they could never keep themselves from adventure outside of the cozy home under the ground.

Wendy was remembering, tying a cadet blue ribbon around the ends of each tight braid, tying it so tightly from anguish that the roots of her hair began to ache.

she never minded much, having to prepare herself for learning infront of john and micheal.

but those cheerful days, each one spent like a child, with foolish giggles and story telling as freshly laundered stockings and under shirts were thrown on over heads would all be gone come tommorow at the strike of midnight.

the din of wendy's doom.

she was allready, infact forbidden simple pleasures by her father, Mr Darling to go and mingle with her brothers.

she was told not to visit the boys and spoil them with childish tales, after she took her new living space in her new room placed in hiding across the hall from the nursery.

" it will be a seperate room for a seperate life," Mr darling once concluded loudly over grownup tea one evening, quite unaware of wendy's small presence against the door.

it was on that dreadful friday that john had bumped his head rather harshly, romping around the room joyfully with a wooden horse stick stuck underneath his privates with wendy and micheal in the nursery following his lead in a game of cowboy.

so, seeing as wendy was the most motherly of the three, she tiptoed down the staircase and went along her merry way towards the kitchen to fetch a wet towel for john's head.

on the way down, she picked up faint voices on the other side of the living room door, speaking, the advantage being a slight crack wide enough to hear more through.

" just a little listen wouldnt even hurt a mouse," wendy assured herself.

she gently pressed an ear against the open crack and listened.

"must we rush her, dear?"

"why, i say! it was never my idea to push her into growing up. i just want her stepping on the right foot!"

who's foot must step into the world?

why, it would be wendy's ofcourse!

you can imagine it to be a tiny, sockless foot, one that belonged to a child that had just returned from neverland, light traces of dirt or stains from frolicking about in the island's long, tall, summer grasses still streaked arcoss the top of the toes and beyond. But it wouldnt be a grownup's foot, you know, all polished and wise from all it's years walking london's grim streets.

you could always tell which was which. even with your eyes closed.

"will she dance with any boys at her birthday ball tommorow evening?" Mrs. darling asked, her tea cup shaking in her hand.

An answer she couldnt possibly recieve, for her husband knew now of wendy's escape with peter pan, the little mischevious boy who brought with him no self manners or even a set of clean fingers.

a shudder passed along the hairs of her spine.

how she loathed peter's dirty fingernails!


	3. Peter's Trickery

Wendy's face fell.

she wished she hadn't heard anything at all, for growing up always somehow found it's way into her dreams.

it frightened her so, just frightening enough to make her toss and turn in her sleep.

Wendy gathered herself away from the door with a newly found heartache.

as she sulked towards the kitchen, micheal's anxious voice rang out from the top of the staircase.

"Wendy! wendy! peter has returned!"

Could it really be true?

Has our beloved peter pan http: flown through the window with adventures to tell and another thimble to give?

By now, wendy was allready topping the staircase excitedly, her old white nightgown held up at her sides so as to not trip over the bottoms.

she second stepped so she could reach the top before peter had flown away from the nursery.

Micheal had dissapeared only a second ago, as restless as a jumping bean from his brief interlude announcing peter's presence.

How could he wait much longer if peter awaited him in the nursery with so many new adventures to tell?

How could any child possibly hold themselves from his lovely presence?

As wendy reached the top of the staircase, she suddenly remembered the slight crack in the door.

We must all pray together, along with poor wendy, that Mr. and Mrs. Darling hadn't picked up micheal's guest announcement.

If, by chance, they were to hear it, i can allready see Mr. Darling dashing for the nursery, a wretched man he knew that he was, shooing the flying wonder towards the window with his hands and now barring it shut so peter could not return again.

How wendy would hate him for putting a bar on her own window!

What would the neighbours say of it?

Nothing of good nature, she knew.

How would she ever call for peter to come and fetch her?

She could only rely on that silly window to bring him back to her bedside.

"Well boys? where can this peter be?" she inquired john and micheal who were now standing together.

The nursery was as silent as the street below them.

Not a creek from a corner or a billow from the curtains could be detected as wendy's eyes wandered about the room.

To conclude, peter had tricked them all.

He had played his game of hide and seek again, always thinking it funny to pretend he was there and then to fly off, leaving not a single trace of his existence to save in your pocket.

Wendy could never catch him on his hide and seek days sadly, but she did have one piece of him left lying on her vanity.

A kiss.

It wasn't just an ordinary kiss.

You know, the kind you give to your loved one late at night.

It was a single acorn suspended on a golden chain, descending from a section of peter's leaf costume.

She couldn't remember which part, but when she recieved it, she knew that every girl asleep before her was dreaming about peter, and jelious of her for having peter's kiss.

It felt deliciously wonderful to know that you were the one that had peter's kiss lying carelessly in your room somewhere, like you never even paid mind to it . But ofcourse you did, because you only wished that he would come back for you one night as you clutched it tightly in the palm of your hand.

She never wished to hang it around her neck any more.

She decided, right after peter had left her at her windowsill on their last eve that it's rightful place was in her jewlery box placed on her vanity.

"But Wendy!" micheal protested, "I saw him! i saw him floating against the ceiling only a dash bit ago!"

"Oh micheal! i do believe that your telling the truth!" wendy cried.

Helpless tears were springing from her eyes as she ran to give her youngest brother a hug.

John, who was far too sensible a boy to show any emotion at all felt a sort of sorrow for his sister and patted her on the back to show his concern.

Although he was short in nature, wendy could allready see that john was turning into a plain and simple man.

He would not slouch the least bit come tea time, and sometimes followed father along to the bank and assisted with filling out balance sheets and counting check piles.

However, on other occasions, he was always the first to suggest a new make believe game on fridays when nana was out to visit aunt millicent and the lost boys.

It was very peculiar actually.

" Let us pretend that we are on that island you always speak of wendy!"

It was plain enough to see that he had allready forgotten that he had ever visited neverland, the friday he suggested this game.

He fetched a jewel encrusted sword, one of where he had no clue of it's origin, and brandished it wildly about as if he were a pirate.

Micheal wanted to play too, so he scurried to his bedside and tried hoisting himself onto the matress but he was not tall enough to make it up on his own at this time.

Wendy noticed this and giggled at him.

She raced over to lift him up by his under arms.

"Here!" she said, racing back and again to give him some red paint from the set aunt millicent bought her.

"Put this on your face, so you will look like a true blooded red skin!"

"Oh, what a thrill! what a thrill this shall be!" micheal cried with glee.

Wendy watched with shining eyes as he splattered red paint across the bridge of his nose and on his cheeks to look like a young indian child.

And how lovely he looked after he was through with that messy muck of paint!

Neverland was coming to life in the darling nursery on the last night, wendy's last night of bliss, but only if peter could see all of this make believe excitement!

If only he would fly through the open windows to laugh and skip and play!

But peter pan was not there to laugh and skip and play with the children.

There was too much adventure alone waiting for him at home, so all he could offer was to play with them in their dreams.

Wendy often saw peter playing blissfully in her dreams.

It was often, but quite a solemly site!

She would turn on her side again and feel his gentle hand touching hers, and before she could reach hers to touch his whitish blonde curls, he was gone and out of site into the sky.

Wendy's eyes began to tear come sunrise, and Mrs. Darling would come into the room and hold her tight in her arms.

"Oh Dearest! what is it that makes you cry late at night?"

"It is he, mother! it is peter who makes me cry like he thinks i do not care for him!"

That was the last night that Mrs. Darling left wendy's side before she drifted off to sleep.

She waited patiently with wendy, her eyes bright and wide eyed from thinking of that naughty boy, and then watched as wendy's eyes closed for awhile, and waited awhile more, just incase peter would pay a visit to her and make her cry out in pain.

We must forget about these horrifying dreams for the time being and return to the joyous site of the children playing.

It is always better to return to a happy scene after we hear about a child's nightmares.

"Wendy, what shall you be if i am a redskin and john there is a pirate?"

Wendy smiled at micheal and stepped towards the nursery's middle.

"Why, i am sure that i shall be a mermaid!"

This was a wonderful idea to wendy, so she stood with a lovely grin.

A lovely grin to woo a whole flock of young boys to her service.

"But, however can you pretend to have a fin?"

This said by john the pirate, was a very rational statement to consider.

"Ah, you are right dear pirate," wendy answered, "so if i cannot be a mermaid, then i shall be a story teller!"

A story teller!

What a brilliant position to take in make believe never land!

John clapped his hands with delight.

"How ripping!"

Micheal began bouncing on his bed again.

"Smashing wendy!"

Story teller felt quite pleased with herself, and so she began to play her role at once.

The other two continued on to role play as well, running about the room like savages and scally wags clutching glorious jewel swords in both their sword fighting hands so that they could duel eachother as they stepped across the floor.

"Arrrrrr! watch yer step there, young red skin! if you dont watch where you point that thing, i shall fetch long tom!"

It is always entertaining the see the children forget to drop their brittish accents when in the middle of their character's line, not even recognizing that it would not be in a pirate's or a redskin's nature to speak in such a way they imagined it to be.

"Beware you, for i am a nasty redskin! i shall smash you in now with my tomahawk!" redskin announced blandly.

He was a fierce little red skin. He was going to kill every pirate in neverland with his pretend tomahawk.

He quickly snatched a bat used for cricket off the floor and whacked pirate straight in the calf, sending him crashing to the ground with a thud.

Ofcourse, we could say that micheal hit john square in the leg and made him fall, but that would not be pretending, you see.


	4. Peter Pan, The Great Avenger!

" Oh! my ankle! my bloody ankle!" pirate moaned in agonizing pain.

Wendy never minded herself for a moment.

She whirled around to face her brother lying on the floor.

"Oh dear! you musn't scream so loudly John, orelse mother and father will hear you!"

Wendy bit her fingernails nervously now, glancing at the open doorway every second or so to see if anyone had heard.

Micheal, who had listened to her simple request, did not like how she was spoiling all of the adventure.

"Oh wendy! dont call him John!" he wailed continuously, dragging his sword across the floor.

"Your ruining the Neverland game!"

Wendy felt frightfully guilty for ruining the Neverland game, so she decided to hush the excitement and begin a story.

Micheal decided to help John off the floor and back on his feet as Wendy ran into the nursery's center.

She stood up straight, stiffening her back, and raised her head high up to the ceiling.

"Storyteller is going to tell all who resides in the Neverland a tale!", she announced.

You couldn't find any trace of fear in her voice, and for that, you could only applaud Wendy if you were to stand beside her and to listen to her declaration.

The boys jumped up and down with excitement.

It is within every child's nature to react in such a way.

They jumped in their own magic.

Micheal jumped much higher than John, and John's jumping was as helpless as a broken bird's wing from the pain still present in his ankle.

One waddled with all his might, and the other dropped his sword off to the side and raced to the edge of Wendy's rocking chair was ancient, a gift from Wendy's great great grandmother, and resided in the same corner ever since she was tall enough to climb up into it's seat.

Now that Wendy was nearly a woman, and able to place herself upon it's seat quite easily, she made her rump at home on the soft cushion.

She raised her hand for silence.

"What are we going to hear today, on such a lovely Neverland day as this?" Micheal raised his hand and asked.

Micheal always thought it polite to raise your hand when asking question, so he went along and excersised his palm and stuck it into the air by his own will and right.

He was such a funny little boy.

Almost as funny as peter.

Wendy's soft pearls lit up the room as she flashed them at Micheal.

She glowed as she smiled, our pure english beauty almost a young adult, throwing thickets of curls over her shoulders so they would not distract her from her story telling.

She was ready to begin.

"Well indian, today i shall tell you a tale about Peter Pan, the great avenger!"

In the midst of saying this, Wendy swore her eyes saw a silver blade wave itself agressively in ones hand, as if it were in battle, moving across the wall.

It wasn't a real hand and sword, ofcourse, but the imagry of a shadow, playing sword games and having pretend fights with itself and the air as it's only opponent.

Quite imaginary, dont you think?

Wendy would have never thought of it.

To be certain, she rubbed her eyes, and opened them again.

Just a second before her eyes met the wall, the figure whom which the tiny hand holding the sword belonged to was frightened and in a second's time, it's shadow flew off the wall.

The shadow's speed wasn't slow enough for Wendy to clearly note, so by the time her eyes were fully open, she was gazing at nothing but the nursery's yellow wallpaper.

It was a shame to see that lovely little creature staring at the walls and wishing that it was peter she saw, especially if you were Mrs. Darling, looking in on your children's crafty work from the doorway, popping your head in to see what they were doing.

But soon enough, she will come back into the story, and she will trouble us as she scolds each of her babes for the pain they had caused on her heart...

The pain?

Pretending that you were an indian or a pirate, when you most certainly were not.

"Wendy! what is it?" John breathed anxiously.

He turned around in his place on the floor and anxiously scanned the nursery for something that wasnt there before.

Wendy saw this and snapped away from her daze.

"Nothing, dear brother!"

Slightly dissapointed, John turned himself back around and slumped cross legged facing the storyteller.

Micheal was certainly playing his part well, sitting up right with crossed legs and a pair of tightened lips.

Wendy found this quite amusing, and felt temptation to laugh, but it could be held in for now.

Back to the story she would go.

"You see, our Peter Pan was the ruler of Neverland-"

"What! Peter? ruler of Neverland? i object to that! i dont approve of his rulings of Neverland at all!"

Micheal always looked up to his older brother, and grew quite fond of him ever since the two returned home from Neverland a month or so ago, so he chimed " Yes! i dont approve of his rulers neither!"

We all know that rulers is not the correct way to mimick one, so as you can see, in a humorous way, that there needed to be a little more improvement with grammer on micheal's behalf.

"Oh dear," Wendy muttered.

There was no telling at that point if peter would ever come into her story and be marveled by all.

With the pace of things, Wendy would never get to the part where brave Peter escaped death on the mermaid lagoon.

"Hush!" she said.

She would not loose her patience.

"Whether you approve of it or not boys, Peter Pan was the ruler of the world we once knew. The magic of his youth and joy was the one thing that kept Neverland alive, and when we are all asleep in our beds late at night, he soars over oceans, tumbles amongst the clouds, and stops once in awhile, from all his late night rambles to play with the twinkling stars up in the sky.

Seeing as Wendy engrossed both boys into her tale, she proceeded again after a much needed breath, but this time, she used her hands much more often.

"And sometimes," she breathed excitedly, sticking her legs under gown, " He visits London and flies into children's nurseries!"

"Ripping!" John clapped, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Micheal was so excited that he couldn't even speak a word.

All of the children grew excited, infact.

Even Wendy.

"Oh wendy! do you think that Peter ever comes to our nursery at night?"

"I believe that he does, Micheal. Sometimes i can hear him playing his pipes to me when i cannot hear him in the room," and to show them where Peter had been sitting, she stood up from the rocking chair, ran over to her bedside, and pointed to a specific spot on the floor.

Let us now move from Wendy standing beside her bed, backward towards the window.

It is not open at the moment, for Mrs. Darling's fear of the children flying off again with Peter, but since we are only here to watch the story take place, we have the charming power to fly _through_ the closed window.

We are not alone outside the snow covered sill now, for another presence shadows ours as we watch Wendy walking back to her rocking chair.

Along with it's shadow comes a classic silver sword, with beautiful detail imprinted allover it's golden handle.

Just the way a certain someone liked it.

It was heavy to the grip, the kind of sword that was only built for the likes of Peter Pan.

We become so enchanted with the lovely sword and it's shadow, so we turned around.

But it is too late.

A darkened figure clutches the sword tightly in his hand, and soars off into the star peppered sky, the second star to the right, and straight on untill he is just like a star, shining bright and


End file.
